


Never Again

by COBigBlueBox



Category: Castle
Genre: Drama, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2015-03-25
Packaged: 2018-03-19 12:37:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3610359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/COBigBlueBox/pseuds/COBigBlueBox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU look at how Caskett came to be. Goes from 47 Seconds to Always.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 47 Seconds

Rick Castle sighed, as he exited the elevator into the 12th precinct's bullpen. It had been a long and sleepless night for him. The Boylan Plaza bombing had left five people dead; scores injured, and had brought the wrath of City Hall down on the precinct. Alexis had cried through the night, haunted by the images of bombing victims in the morgue. Yawning, he looked around for Beckett, frowning when he didn't see her nearby. However, a familiar face caught his attention. "Hey, Espo," he called out, as Esposito walked by. "No luck on the files last night. You guys catch a break?"

"Better," replied Esposito. "We caught the suspect."

"What?" exclaimed Castle. "Where is he?"

"In the box. With Beckett."

Castle eagerly walked into the observation room, watching as Beckett picked apart Bobby's story, piece by piece. He was claiming he could not remember what happened or how he got the backpack containing the explosives, that it must be some sort of trauma-induced amnesia. As he grew more afraid of Beckett's icy stare, Bobby exclaimed, "I swear I don't remember! It must've been one of those trauma amnesia moments!" Beckett lowered herself until she was mere inches from his face. In a low, deadly voice, she said, "No. You don't get to use that excuse. Not with me."

"I swear to God, I don't remember!" replied Bobby, in desperation.

"The hell you don't remember!" yelled Beckett, as she whirled around to face him. "Do you wanna know trauma? I was shot in the chest, and I remember every second of it...And so do you!"

Castle stood in silence, as he stared numbly at Beckett in the interrogation room. He couldn't even breathe, he was so stunned. Finally, he managed to find enough of his voice, to whisper out loud to himself. "All this time…you remembered?" Castle numbly walked out of the observation room, and back into the bullpen. As he approached Beckett's desk, he slammed the coffee cup down, shooting coffee through the lid to stain the papers scattered on Beckett's desk. Normally, he would have cleaned them up before she got back. But now, he was so furious with her for lying to him all this time, he just didn't care. Castle gathered the case files he's been reading that he left on Beckett's desk into his arms, and walked over to knock on the door of Gate's office. "Sir, can I ask a favor?"

* * *

 Beckett walked out of Interrogation two hours later, having gotten little from Bobby, but the usual repeated "I don't remember!" line. She was tired, had a headache pounding in her head, and desperately needed coffee. Looking at her desk, she smiled as she saw the coffee cup on her desk, thanking whatever deity watching over cops that at least one of the items on her list was fulfilled. However, the smile quickly turned into a frown of confusion, as she looked around, not seeing Castle anywhere. "Where's Castle?"

"Over there," replied Esposito, gesturing toward a desk on the other side of the room. "He commandeered that shortly after you went in to interrogate Bobby. Said he needed some privacy to read the case files, so he asked Gates if he could use it."

Beckett frowned, as she glanced over at the desk Castle was using. "So where is he now?"

"He went to go get more case files," replied Esposito. "He should be back up soon." As if on cue, Castle strode back into the bullpen, carrying a new armload of case files. Without a word, he sat down at the desk, and started scanning the top one. Beckett walked over, and stood next to him. "Hey, Castle," she said. Castle didn't reply. Beckett frowned, and tried a new approach.

"What're you doing?"

"Reading," replied Castle, not bothering to look up.

"Oh," replied Beckett. "You got anything?"

"Maybe. Hey, Ryan," Castle called, looking up as the detective walked by. "You have the LUDs from Jessie's phone?"

"No, I left it on Beckett's desk," Ryan replied. "Why, what's up?"

"Something Alexis said last night's been bugging me. She said that when she was planning a surprise party for Ashley, she called to make sure everything was set up right before they walked in. Now, right before the bomb went off, Jessie was trying frantically to call whoever had the detonator, to tell them that the bomb was in the middle of a crowd."

"Right, but whoever had the detonator wasn't answering the phone," said Esposito.

"Exactly," replied Castle. "Now, I don't know about you, but another phone call from the person who told me I was good to go would make me wanna answer right away."

"Unless you CAN'T answer," said Beckett. "Bobby had several phones that he lifted from people. Maybe one of them was our bomber?"

"No. I checked the numbers against Jessie's LUDs. None of them were a match," replied Ryan.

"Which means there was only one person at the scene that couldn't answer their phone," said Castle, as he stared at the murder board. "LeAnn West."

"The reporter?" asked Beckett in disbelief. "Castle, she has no motive to kill these people. Why would she set off a bomb?"

"Fame, attention, ambition," replied Castle. "She's a reporter, on hand when the biggest story in the city hits. Don't you find it a little TOO convenient that she just happened to be there right as the bomb goes off? Also, I did a little digging into her background. She and Jessie went to Hudson University together, which means she had motive to get in touch with him."

"Yeah, but CSU went over the area with a fine-tooth comb," replied Ryan. "They didn't find anything."

"Unless she dumped it during the chaos," said Beckett thoughtfully. She turned to Ryan and Esposito. "Have CSU sweep every storm drain, trash can, dumpster, and rat hole in a five block radius from the bombing. If there's a hiding spot, I want it checked." As the boys ran off to make calls, Beckett turned to Castle and smiled. "Nice job, Castle," she said. "You may have cracked this case."

"Yeah," he replied, as he turned back to the desk he was using, gathering up all the files on it. Beckett frowned.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

"No," he replied, as he walked away. Beckett watched him walk off, her brow still creased. He had sounded mad at her. But for what? Was it something related to the case? Or was it something she said or did? Before she could ponder further, Ryan walked over, a smug look on his face. "CSU just called. Guess what they found in a storm drain two blocks from the scene?"

"Castle, you wanna take a stab at this?" asked Beckett, teasingly. "Spin one of your wild theories?"

"No," he replied, sitting down at his desk.

"O…kay," said Ryan. "Anyway, they found a burner phone that matched to the number Jessie was trying to call right before the explosion. And right next to it was the remote detonator. So they ran it for prints, and got a match. Guess who?"

"LeAnn West," said Castle quietly.

Ryan frowned. "I'm not playing Psychic with you again."

Beckett looked at him, a steely glint in her eyes. "Have uniforms bring her in."

"Esposito's already on his way to pick her up," replied Ryan.

"Good," she replied. She headed for the elevator, only to notice Castle still sitting at his desk. "Castle, you coming?"

"Actually, I think I'll sit this one out," he said.

Beckett blinked. "Okay," she said, hoping the hurt she was feeling wasn't coming through in her voice. "Well, you can watch from the observation room, if you want."  
"I know," he whispered to himself, as the elevator doors closed on Beckett.

LeAnn West looked up as Beckett entered the room. "Why am I here?" she asked. "I told the police everything I know. And they have the footage from the day of the explosion."  
Beckett sat down, as she laid the folder she was carrying on the table. "You lied to us, Ms. West," she said.

"Excuse me?" the woman said. "I didn't lie to anyone."

"Oh, really?" asked Beckett, as she turned on a TV. "Then how do you explain this?" The footage was of LeAnn talking into her mic, hand raised to her ear. "You were on the phone with someone, weren't you?"

"No, I wasn't," she said. "I wasn't on the phone with anyone, I was talking to my cameraman. I already told the FBI the whole story."

"Except you left out a few details," replied Beckett. "Like the fact that you knew Jessie Friedman. The two of you went to Hudson University together."

"Yeah. So did a lot of people."

"The two of you reunited at the protest, went out for drinks, and you hatched a plan. You wanted media attention for the movement. You wanted to get promoted to the anchor desk. That spot looked really good to you, didn't it? So you set up your camera at the perfect vantage point. You waited until you went live, and then you detonated that bomb."

"What? That is insane! This is ridiculous, and I will not listen to another word of it. We're done here." LeAnn started to rise, but Beckett slammed a phone in an evidence bag down on the table in front of her.

"We're just getting started. Recognize that?"

Fear flashed across the reporter's face, before she managed to compose herself. "No. Should I?"

"That's the burner cell you used to call Jessie. We found it in a storm drain two blocks from Boylan Plaza. You know what else we found in there? This." Beckett set down another bag, with the remote detonator in it. "The remote you used to detonate the bomb. Small enough to hide in the palm of your hand. It's got your fingerprints all over it, LeAnn."

"How did you find that?" she asked quietly.

"By tracking your movements after the explosion, using your phone's GPS," said Beckett.

LeAnn stared at the evidence before her. "No one was supposed to get hurt," she whispered. "It was just gonna make a lot of noise, and people would start respecting me as a reporter, but everything just went wrong."

"Why didn't you come forward once you realized what you had done?" asked Beckett.

"I thought about it, but what good would that do? I kept quiet for Jessie's sake. I wanted to protect his memory."

In the observation room, Castle stared, as he, Ryan and Esposito listened to LeAnn's confession. "What you did was called sinning by silence," Castle whispered. Ryan and Esposito turned and stared at him, but he continued on, as if he were the only one in the room. "It's not smart. It's not brave. It's just cowardly."

"Castle?" Ryan placed a hand on Castle's shoulder.

"You okay, bro?" asked Esposito, concern lining his face.

Castle blinked, and turned to the two men. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine," he said, his voice low. "Excuse me." Castle turned, and walked out of the room.

Captain Gates stood in the bullpen, addressing the group of people in front of her. "The FBI has taken LeAnn West into custody," she said. "This woman, who's blind ambition led to the death of five people WILL get what she deserves." Gates paused. "I, um…I wanna thank each of you for what you did to make this happen. You, um…all put in 110%. Made me proud." Gates turned to face Castle. "I especially wanna thank you, Mr. Castle, for your help in this case. Your insight and creative thinking broke this case wide open for all of us." Castle nodded. Gates took a breath, and turned to her squad. "So, let's uh…get outta here, head on home, and catch up on some much needed rest." Gates turned to walk off, but Castle quickly stood up.

"Uh, if I could have everyone's attention for just a moment," he said. Everyone turned to look at him. "Tonight, drinks at The Old Haunt for every cop in this precinct are on the house. That includes you, Captain Gates," said Castle, as he turned to her.

"That's very generous of you, Mr. Castle," she said. "And I will be taking you up on that offer." Gates smiled as she walked off, thinking of the taste of a cold beer and pleasant company at the bar.

Beckett turned to the men. "You know what? I'm still a little wired," she said. "You guys wanna go over to The Old Haunt, take Castle up on his offer?"

"Sorry," said Ryan. "But it feels like a month since I've seen Jenny. I should really get home."

"Me too," said Esposito. "I'll holler at you."  
"Well, if you go in tomorrow, I'll make sure your drinks are on the house," said Castle. The boys nodded, and waved as they left.

"Well, I guess it's just you and me," said Beckett, turning to face Castle.

"Yeah," said Castle, grabbing his coat.

"You know, now that the case is done," said Beckett, as she turned to face him, "what did you wanna talk about?"

"Nothing. Nothing important," he replied. He slung his coat over his arm, and started walking toward the elevator.

Beckett looked at his back in confusion. "Okay. Well, good night," she called. Castle just waved behind him, not bothering to turn around. As he stepped into the elevator, he turned to glare at Beckett as the doors closed. He didn't know how long she was going to keep up this charade, but one thing was certain to him: his time shadowing Kate Beckett was rapidly coming to a close.


	2. The Limey

Rick Castle stepped out of the elevator to the 12th precinct, and headed into the bullpen. As he walked toward Beckett's desk, he saw her in the conference room, bent over the table with Colin Hunt. They seemed engaged in a rather lengthy call, so Castle grabbed his chair and slid it over to Esposito's desk. "Hey, Espo," he said, as he raised his feet up and set them on the desk. "Where's Ryan at?"

"Dude, seriously?" asked Esposito, looking up from the file he was reading to glare at Castle.

"What?"

"Your shoes."

"You like them?" asked Castle, grinning as he cocked his head to the side to stare at his shoes. "They're Armani, custom made. I know a shop over in SoHo that does custom orders. They may be a little on the pricey side, but I can swing them as a Christmas or birthday present. Just leave your size with me."

"Funny," replied Esposito, as he pushed Castle's feet off the desk with a pen. "And here I was, figuring you for a sneakers kind of guy. Yo, Ryan!" he called to the break room. "Look who finally decided to show up."

"Ah, the prodigal son finally returns," said Ryan, grinning as he sat down. "So kind of us to grace us with your presence, Castle."

"Speaking of graced presences," said Castle, as he leaned forward, "the Knicks are playing the Bulls this Friday in the playoffs, at Madison Square Garden. I can get us courtside seats to the game. You guys in?"

"Are you kidding?" asked Esposito. "Dude, that game is sold out! And even with your influence, there's no way you can get courtside seats!"

"I bet I can," retorted Castle.

"Okay," said Ryan. "Twenty bucks says you can get mid row, at best."

"Money?" Castle laughed. "Oh, no. For something like this, your money is too easy to take. What say we make this…interesting?"

Ryan glanced at Esposito. "What did you have in mind?" he asked uncertainly.

"If I win, you two have to stand on your desks and do the YMCA dance," said Castle. "Pantless."

"Pantless?" cried Ryan. "Are you crazy, Castle? IAB would have us up on ethics violations inside of two seconds."

"No, you're right," replied Castle. "For this grand a gesture, we need the appropriate setting." He grinned. "You'll dance at The Old Haunt."

"Deal," said Esposito. Ryan turned to him, aghast.

"What? Come on, dude! I don't want everyone at my favorite bar to see what kind of underwear I have on!"

"Side bet says it's boxers," said Castle, gleefully.

"But if we win," said Esposito, "we get the Ferrari. For two weeks."

"Each," added Ryan.

Castle cringed. "Two weeks each? Come on, guys!"

"That's our wager, bro. Take it or leave it."

Castle sighed, and stuck out his hand. "Deal." Ryan and Esposito grinned, as they shook his hand.

* * *

Beckett walked out of the conference room, Hunt right on her heels. Colin Hunt was a charming man and a hell of a detective, but what he wasn't, was Castle. Beckett had grown used to their rhythm and easy camaraderie over the years, both on and off a case. The way they were able to finish each other's sentences. The smile he'd give her, as he left for home. And somehow, his unorthodox thinking and crazy theories helped guide her to the truth. But lately, things between them had gotten…weird. His attitude toward her was colder, and he hadn't brought her normal cup of coffee to her in days. If Beckett was honest, she missed him. She missed her partner with the sparkle in his eyes, and the smile that always made his face light up. As she approached the bullpen, her face lit up in a smile to see Castle. Only…"Castle, what are you doing at Esposito's desk?" she asked.

"Working," Castle replied, not bothering to look up from his phone.

"On what? Driving Esposito mad?" she asked.

"The case," he replied.

"Great." Beckett paused, and took a deep breath. "Listen, Castle, I was wondering…can we talk this evening? After work?"

"Got plans," said Castle, standing up and walking toward the elevator.

"Where are you off to?"

"Lunch date," he replied, as he stepped into the elevator.

"Lunch date? With who?"

"Jacinda."

"Who's Jacinda?" asked Beckett, as the doors started closing. "Castle!"

Esposito approached, a folder in his hand. "Hey, CSU just called. They found a mysterious set of numbers Naomi wrote on the back of Nigel's photograph."

"There weren't any numbers on the back of his photo," said Beckett.

"Not in visible ink, there weren't."

"Wait, you mean she wrote them down in invisible ink? How did CSU miss that?"

"They were looking for fingerprints, not invisible writing. One of the CSU technicians was running a black light for missed prints, when they found it. I guess Naomi didn't want whoever killed her to find it."

"I guess not," replied Beckett, as she approached the murder board. "What's the numbers?"

"W4-1949-898," he said, as he glanced into the folder. Beckett copied this information onto the murder board, then turned to Esposito.

"Have Ryan run a search for this, using all the code breaking tricks he knows. If Naomi was hiding this from her killer, this is big."

"You got it," he said, as he headed off to tell his partner the latest development.

* * *

Castle walked in an hour later, to see the team huddled around the murder board. Taking advantage of Beckett's distraction, he slid into a chair. "Hey, Karpowski."

Karpowski looked up in surprise. "Castle? What're you doing at my desk?"

"I need a favor."

"If this about the bet between you, Ryan and Esposito, count me out."

"No this isn't about-wait, you KNOW about that?" he asked in astonishment.

"Are you kidding?" she replied. "There's an office pool going around about whether they get the Ferrari, or we get to see them dancing. Even Captain Gates has money down on it."

"Gates? Really?" he asked. "Huh. I'd never have pegged her as someone having fun."

Karpowski smiled. "Okay, so if this isn't about the office pool, what do you need?"

Castle looked over his shoulder to make sure Beckett was still distracted with the murder board, then turned to Karpowski. "Do you still have the video of Beckett's interrogation of Bobby Lopez?"

Karpowski frowned. "Yeah. Why?"

"I need a copy."

"Castle, why do you have to do this to me?" Karpowski groaned. "Do you have any idea what kind of trouble I'd get into if Gates finds out? I could get fired!"

"I'll make sure this doesn't blow back on you," he said. "Promise."

"Fine," she replied. "But it's gonna cost you."

"How long do you want the Ferrari for?" asked Castle reluctantly.

"Do I look like Ryan and Esposito?" she replied. "No, my price is far worse: I want two tickets to the ballet this Friday. Decent seats."

"The ballet? That's it?"

"DECENT seats, Castle. None of that nosebleed nonsense."

Castle sighed, and pulled out his phone. "Deal. I'm ordering them right now."

Karpowski smiled. "Thank you. And the file is being sent to you in 3…2…1…sent."

Castle smiled and stood up. "Thanks. I owe you."

"Pleasure doing business with you," said Karpowski, turning back to her computer.

Castle walked over, in time to hear Ryan speaking. "I don't know, Beckett. I'm still running that number sequence through the database, but so far, no luck. If it IS a code, it's not one I'm familiar with."

"What I wanna know," said Beckett, pointing to a photograph on the board, "is who he is? He must be someone important to Naomi, if she was holding his photograph with a code written in invisible ink on the back."

"A better question would be, what's that on the wall behind him?" asked Castle.

Beckett whirled around. "Jesus, Castle! You almost gave me a heart attack!"

"Sorry," said Castle, not looking sorry at all. "But if you can identify that plaque on the wall behind him, maybe you can get some idea of who he is."

"Ryan, can you blow that image up?" asked Beckett, turning to the detective.

"Sure, give me a moment," he replied, tapping at the keys on his keyboard. "And…there you go."

"Wait a minute," said Hunt. "I know that symbol! That's the British seal!"

"Are you sure?" asked Beckett.

"Very. Every public building in Britain has that outside their doors. That's the British consulate."

"Ryan, can you pull up a list of consulate employees?" she asked, turning to him.

"Already on it," he replied, tapping away at the keys. A few seconds later, a stream of photographs appeared on his monitor. After a few seconds of scrolling, Hunt pointed to one photo in particular. "That's him! Nigel Wyndham!"

"Says here, he's Deputy General of the British consulate," said Esposito.

"So what was Naomi doing with a copy of his photograph, with a code written in invisible ink on the back of it?" asked Beckett.

"What code?" asked Castle.

"That one," replied Beckett, gesturing to the murder board. "But right now, we need to figure out a plan to get into the consulate and Wyndham's fingerprints. See if we can match it to the ones we got from the photograph."

"Then allow me to introduce," said Castle, pulling out another whiteboard, with a picture of the consulate on it, "the Castle Infiltration Plan! This scheme is so foolproof, it HAS to work. Ryan, you'll be coming in the entrance as a flower delivery boy." Castle stuck a magnet with Ryan's picture on it to the entrance of the consulate. "Esposito, you'll be doing surveillance across the street as a hobo." Castle stuck Esposito's picture to the board. "And as for me, I will be rappelling down from the roof with a duffel bag containing one Alexander Duvinchky, a Russian national famous for being able to contort himself to fit into any space as big as a suitcase. Once inside, he and I will-"

"Or," said Hunt, interrupting, "since I am a British national and the consulate is hosting a party tonight, I could get myself and Detective Beckett in as guests."

"Well, yeah. I guess that could work, too," said Castle quietly.

"We'll call this Plan B, Castle," said Beckett, trying not to smile. "I'm going to head home and change. See you guys tomorrow."

As Beckett and Hunt walked off, Esposito turned to Castle. "Question," he said. "Why does the brown guy have to be the hobo?"

"Would you rather be delivering flowers?" replied Castle.

"Hobo it is."

* * *

Beckett and Hunt walked in the next morning, to be greeted by Esposito. "Hey," he said. "Got bad news for you. CSU just called. They ran the prints you got last night against the ones found on Naomi's body. They aren't a match. Wyndham's not your killer."

"What?" exclaimed Hunt. "He's mixed up in this. I KNOW it!"

"Have CSU run it again," said Beckett.

"They did. Three times," Esposito replied. "Sorry. Wyndham's not our killer."

"He's behind this, I know he is!" fumed Hunt. "That's why he had Naomi killed."

"Maybe he had one of his security guys do it," said Ryan, as he walked up.

"Can you get Scotland Yard to run background checks on the consulate's security staff?" asked Beckett, turning to Hunt. "Maybe something in that will pop."

"Good idea," replied Hunt. He turned to walk off, but was interrupted by the sound of the elevator doors opening, followed by a very loud giggle. "Ricky, please! We are in public!"

"I know," said Castle, grinning as he stepped off the elevator with a blonde woman. "That's what makes it so much fun." Looking up as he walked in, he smiled and waved. "Hey, guys! You remember the boys?" he asked. Jacinda nodded, smiling at them in greeting. Castle turned to Hunt. "This is Detective-Inspector Colin Hunt of Scotland Yard."

"Hello," said Jacinda quietly.

Hunt smiled and nodded in greeting. "Nice to meet you."

Castle turned to Beckett. "And this is Detective Kate Beckett."

"Nikki Heat!" gasped Jacinda. "Oh, it is such a pleasure to meet you! I am, how you say, big fan?"

Castle smiled at her, and turned to the group. "So, what have we got?"

"CSU ran the prints from Naomi's body against Wyndham's set that Beckett and Hunt got us," said Esposito. "They weren't a match."

"So Hunt's going to try and get Scotland Yard to run background checks on the consulate's security staff," said Beckett.

"Or, a better option would be this mysterious set of numbers Naomi had written on the back of the photograph," said Castle. "These are the numbers written on diplomatic pouches."

"How do you know that?" asked Beckett, astonished.

"Research," replied Castle.

"If it's a diplomatic pouch, where did it come from?" asked Ryan.

"Why not ask someone who's been around these?" asked Castle, turning around. "Jacinda?"

"That is from Royal Eastern Airlines," she replied, beaming.

"Which means the pouch was delivered on the airline," said Esposito.

"Exactly," replied Castle. "The W4 refers to the size of the pouch, and the 1949 indicates exactly which pouch it is in the consulate sequence."

"As the Deputy General, Wyndham would have to sign off for all the pouches," said Hunt.

"So maybe this isn't about an affair gone wrong between Nigel and Naomi," said Beckett.

"It's about smuggling," said Hunt grimly.

"Well, that makes sense," said Castle. "Diplomatic pouches are sealed, and their contents bypass both TSA and Customs inspections."

"Naomi must've gotten wind of what Wyndham was up to," said Hunt. "We need to know what was in that pouch."

"Yeah, but the consulate is never gonna release that information," said Esposito.

"We don't have to worry about the consulate," said Castle. "The airline keeps a copy of the waybill. And I happen to know someone with the airline who wants to help."

Jacinda smiled as she stood up, and pulled out a piece of paper to hand to Beckett, who was glaring daggers at Castle. "This is for you, Detective. I am big help?"

Beckett snatched the sheet of paper, and set it on her desk. "Castle, can I talk to you in private?" she asked, dragging him toward the break room. Jacinda winced, as the door slammed shut. "I have done wrong?" she asked, turning around.

Esposito smiled, and shook his head. "No, Jacinda. You may have helped us break the case. Thank you." Jacinda smiled.

* * *

Beckett turned to Castle, arms folded. "Castle, what the hell were you thinking? You can't just share confidential police information with an outsider!"

"Even if it solves the case? She gave you a  _lead_. That's more than you got from the consulate."

"And that's supposed to make this all okay?"

"Jacinda just wanted to help out. What's the big deal?"

Beckett stared at him. "You don't get it, do you?"

"No, I guess I don't," said Castle, folding his arms as well. "So why don't you explain it to me?"

"I don't need one of your blonde bimbos that's gonna be gone next week butting into one of my cases, Castle! Even if she is a "big fan" of your books!"

Castle's glare suddenly turned icy. "That "blonde bimbo" as you put it, holds two Masters degrees, speaks four languages, and has seen more of the world than you ever have. She also happens to be my girlfriend. So before you start opening your mouth again, maybe you should get your facts straight. Now, are we through here,  _detective_?" Beckett nodded, not trusting her voice. "Good," said Castle as he walked out, and escorted Jacinda back to the elevator, only pausing long enough to hand an envelope to Ryan.

Esposito watched as Castle stormed out of the break room, and escorted Jacinda back to the elevator. A moment later, Beckett walked out of the break room, shoulders hunched. "Hey, Beckett," he said, walking toward her. "You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," she said.

"You sure?" he asked, looking at her. "Because Castle looked pretty pissed when he came out of the break room."

"Everything's fine," she said.

"Okay. Well, Lanie just called. She found a partial print on Naomi's neck, in the body lotion she was wearing."

"Did she get a match?" asked Beckett.

"Yep. And you're gonna love this," said Esposito, pulling open the folder. "Guy's name is Biggie Slim."

"Nicky Jay's boyfriend?" asked Beckett in surprise.

"The one and the same. Uniforms are picking him up, as we speak."

"Good. Find Hunt, and let him know. He's likely gonna want to be in on this interrogation." Esposito nodded, and walked off.

"I want you to take a close look at this photo," said Beckett, as she slapped a photo down on the table, and leaned forward.

"Yeah, I seen this one," replied Biggie, leaning forward. "Paparazzi caught me and Nicky J coming out of the studio a couple weeks ago."

"In fact, that is Nicky J's black SUV, isn't it?"

"Bought by Biggie Slim himself," he said, waving his hands. "Supply and demand. She demands, I gotta supply."

"You know, the thing I find intriguing, is before you became Biggie Slim, your name was Darius Young," said Beckett. "Best known for launching several failed Internet start-ups."

"I'm just a man ahead of my time," he replied.

"Well, the SEC thought you were a man trying to fleece investors," said Hunt, as he approached the table.

"See, I was never charged for that," said Biggie, smiling.

"One of your ventures," said Beckett as she sat down, "a music-sharing website based in the UK, caught the attention of British authorities. And when they tried to shut you down, an aide to the Minister of Culture lobbied on your behalf. And do you know who that aide was, Mr. Young?" Beckett paused, before leaning in closer. "Nigel Wyndham. In fact," said Beckett, as she pulled another photo out of the folder and set it down, "this is Nigel stepping out of the very same black SUV."

Biggie leaned forward, a frown creasing his face. "No, no, I don't think so," he said.

"Why don't you take a closer look?" asked Beckett. "It's got the same custom pinstripes on the door."

"It's just somebody else's truck with those stripes on there."

"Your driver already admitted that he drove you to this meeting outside the consulate," said Hunt.

"We also know that your cousin is in the service. Drew Harris?"

"A staff sergeant. He works in an armory. He supplied the missiles that you had Wyndham smuggle into Africa for you."

"You knew that he had access to the diplomatic pouches, and you saw an opportunity. Didn't you?"

"Supply and demand," said Hunt.

"That's a whole lot of speculation there,  _mate_ ," said Biggie, not bothering to hide his disdain.

"Well, we weren't the only ones to put together the pieces," said Beckett.

"Naomi wasn't giving you her phone number," said Hunt. "She was looking for evidence."

"Once you realized that she was the same girl that Wyndham caught snooping, you followed her to the motel, and you killed her."

Biggie snorted, and leaned forward. "Well, here's the real question: how are y'all gonna prove that?"

"We found a partial fingerprint on Naomi's body," replied Hunt. "And it's a match to you." Biggie sighed, and leaned back.

"You know, the thing I can't figure out," said Beckett, "is why Uganda? Why would you CARE?"

Biggie shook his head. "Man, it wasn't about Uganda," he said. "It was just about the money. I didn't even know where Wyndham was shipping the stuff to, and I didn't care. Long as I got paid, everything was good."

* * *

"Her dad would've been proud," said Hunt, as he pulled Naomi's picture off of the murder board. "How brave she was, taking on these men. Still wish she hadn't done it, though."

"So what happens now?" asked Beckett. "Do you go back to DC?"

"London, I'm afraid. Face the music."

"You know, they should give you a commendation for this."

"That is  _wildly_  improbable. Well, Detective Beckett," he said, looking up. "It's been a true pleasure."

"The pleasure was all mine, Detective-Inspector Hunt," she replied.

"Please. Colin."

"Kate."

"You know, I have a few hours before my flight," Hunt said. "Could I persuade you to let me buy you a drink?"

"Um," said Beckett, looking over to where Castle was leaning against the wall, talking on the phone, "I'm sorry. I have a bit of paperwork to do."

Hunt nodded. "Another time," he said, as he walked out.

"Where's Scotland Yard off to?" asked Castle, as he put his phone back in his pocket.

"He's going back to London. Um, Castle? Do you have a second? Can we…talk?"

"Actually, no," he said. "Jacinda's double-parked."

" Castle, about what I said the other day. I'm-"

"Don't," said Castle, glaring at her. "Okay? Just…don't."

"Castle, I'm just trying to-"

"I know what you're trying to do," he said. "Just save yourself the trouble, okay? Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go watch the boys dance pantless at The Old Haunt." Castle started walking toward the elevator.

"So, I'll see you tomorrow?" she called, as he pressed the button.

"No," he replied. "I'm transferring to Gangs. So congratulations, Detective Beckett. You're now free of the funniest kid in the classroom." The doors closed, shutting off the sight of Castle's glare.

Beckett wiped a stray tear that had fallen off her cheek, as she turned back to her desk. "What did I do to you?" she whispered, as she glanced at Castle's seat. She didn't know what caused this rift between them, but one thing was certain: she was going to do everything in her power to find out and fix it.


	3. Headhunters

Rick Castle walked off the elevator into Homicide, only to bump into Kate Beckett, as she walked out of the break room.

"Castle? Hey!" she said, a smile lighting up her face as she saw him.

"Beckett," he said, nodding as he walked by her.

"I thought you transferred to Gangs?" she asked, frowning in confusion.

"I did," he replied, as he walked over to her desk.

"So, why are you up here?"

"Forgot my new sunglasses," he said, as he picked them up.

"Oh." She paused. "So, how is it down there?"

"Fine! Everything's fine. Learning a lot for the next book series I wanted to start."

"Oh? Discontinuing the Heat series?" she asked, feeling a sting in her heart. She used to say she didn't want any part of his main character, but it really wasn't true anymore.

"Haven't decided," he said.

"Oh. So, who's your new partner?"

"Slaughter," he replied, as he hit the elevator button.

"Slaughter? ETHAN Slaughter?!"

"Yeah."

Beckett reached out and grabbed his arm, tugging on it to turn him toward her. "Castle, you need to find a different partner. Please."

Castle lifted his eyes off of her hand on his arm, to her own. The sparkle that was normally in his eyes was missing; they were cold and distant. "I already know about Slaughter's reputation,  _detective_ ," he said. "I don't need you babysitting me anymore." He removed her hand, and stepped into the elevator. Why was she so concerned, anyway? She knew how he felt about her, yet she obviously had no intention of reciprocating those feelings. Was she concerned about him? Or was it more likely she just wanted her puppy following her again? Castle closed his eyes for a second and swallowed the lump forming in his throat, trying to hide the hurt he was feeling inside.

"What did I do to you?" she asked him, shoving her arm in as the doors began closing. "Tell me that much, okay? What did I do to you that made you so mad at me?" Castle glared at her, saying nothing, as he hit the Door Close button. She really didn't get it, did she? He knew then: Kate Beckett didn't share his feelings. This was going to be easier than he thought. "Castle!" she cried, as tears began sliding down her cheeks. The doors slid shut, blocking Beckett's view of him, as the car moved down. "Please talk to me," she whispered to herself. "What did I do?"

* * *

"I though the two of us were getting closer together, and now, it seems like he's pulling away from me!" she said, running her hands through her hair in frustration.

"Have you asked him why?" asked Dr. Burke, as he leaned back in his chair.

"Yes!" replied Beckett, as she paced the floor of Dr. Burke's office. "And he said, 'oh, everything is fine!'"

"What makes you think it isn't?"

"Because he's acting like a complete jackass!" she said, her voice breaking, as she whirled around. "He shows up at the precinct with some blonde bimbo hanging on his arm, injecting her into MY case, and now he's running around with another cop!"

"Is this other cop a woman?"

"No!  **No**! Wait, why would you even ask that? That's not even the point! The point is, I don't understand why he's acting like this! I mean, what did I do to him?" she asked, wiping the tears from her eyes.

"Well, maybe from his point of view," said Dr. Burke, as he looked her in the eye, "the question is, what DIDN'T you do?"

"Wait, what?" she asked, as she looked up. "Wh-what do you mean?"

"When you were shot, Castle said he loved you. How long ago was that?"

"Seven months ago," said Kate softly. "But, I wasn't ready to hear that, then."

"What do you think he's telling you with his behavior?" asked Dr. Burke, as he leaned forward a little.

"That…maybe…he's not there anymore. That he's not ready." Beckett pulled a tissue out of the box in front of her, and dabbed at her eyes, which were starting to water. "What if I waited too long?"

"You weren't waiting, Kate," he said gently. "You were healing."

"But in the meantime, he's gotten tired of waiting for me, and he moved on."

"Or, he's protecting himself, by not taking more emotional risks."

"So what do I do?" she asked, as she turned to look at him.

Dr. Burke shrugged. "What do you want to do?"

Beckett sighed. "Be with him," she whispered. "Tell him that I love him."

Dr. Burke smiled. "Then tell him."

"But what if he won't let me tell him?" she asked.

"Then do what you must to let him know."

* * *

Slaughter shoved the doors to the morgue open, and strode in. "Okay, rookie," he said, turning to Castle. "Watch and learn how we do things in the big leagues." He turned around, only to see Lanie standing behind the table, glaring at him. "Well, well," said Slaughter, grinning as he stepped next to her. "What's up, Sweet Cheeks?"

Castle cleared his throat, before Lanie could formulate a reply. "What have you got for us?" he asked.

Lanie glared at Slaughter, before turning to the body. "Your vic had two gunshot wounds to the back. Based on the powder burns, this was done close range. But this is what you might be interested in." Lanie turned to turn on the x-ray viewer, only to hear an appreciative grunt from Slaughter. Smiling sweetly, she leaned over, only to grab and twist his ear. "Eye my butt again," she purred, "and it'll be the last thing you ever see. Got it?"

Slaughter leered as he leaned back, rubbing his ear. "Ooooh, I like it when they're feisty," he said.

"Okay," said Castle, quickly interrupting before Lanie proceeded to rearrange Slaughter's anatomy, "our vic was shot before he met the Highlander."

"Yeah, but that's not why I called you two down here. See these marks?" asked Lanie, as she gestured to the x-rays. "These were done post-mortem. Whoever killed your headless friend, cut his head off after he was dead."

Slaughter grinned. "Sounds like we got ourselves an old-fashioned gang war brewing. Oh, I love those! All right, rookie," he said, thumping Castle on the back, "time to pop your cherry. Stay classy, Candy Ass." He started walking out the door, Castle behind him, only to be stopped by Lanie's voice.

"Castle, hold on. I wanna talk to you." She glared at Slaughter. "Alone."

"I really don't have time right now, Lanie. My partner needs me," Castle replied.

"That's what I wanna talk to you about."

"Then it can wait until later." Castle started walking out, only to have Lanie grab his ear, and pull him toward the office. "OW! Apples, apples, apples!"

Lanie dragged him inside the office, shut the door, and turned around. "What's going on with you and Beckett?"

"Nothing's going on," he said.

Lanie crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow.

"What?" he asked.

"You really expect me to believe that?"

"I was kind of hoping you would," he replied sheepishly.

Lanie sighed. "Castle, I don't know what happened between you two, but I do know one thing: my girl is hurting right now. She misses you, and she's been moping for days. Ever since you ran off with Slaughter, all she's done is bury herself in work and close people out. She keeps telling us she's fine, but we know better. Hell, even the boys see how much she's hurting. So what did she do to you?"

Castle looked up at Lanie, his eyes suddenly frosty. "Are you asking me as a confidant, or her best friend?" Lanie looked away. Castle nodded. "That's what I thought." He stood up, walked over, and opened the door.

"At least tell me where this started!" said Lanie, as her expression hardened. "Can you do that much, or is that violating some Castle rule?"

Castle sighed, and turned back to her. Lanie's expression softened at the hurt in his eyes. "Boylon Plaza," he said quietly, as he walked out, shutting the door behind him.

* * *

Castle ducked down in the break room, glancing out the bottom of the window at Slaughter, who was standing outside in the hallway, talking to another cop.

"What're you doing?" asked Esposito, as he walked up behind him.

"Geez!" cried Castle, whirling around. "Do they teach cops how to Batman people at the academy, or something?"

"You okay?" asked Esposito, concern crossing his face.

"That guy's insane," whispered Castle.

"Yeah, I know. I tried to tell you," replied Esposito.

"No," said Castle, leaning in. "He's  _insane_."

"Why, what'd he do?"

Castle started to answer, only to feel someone staring at him. Turning around, he found Slaughter in the window, staring at him. "Geez!" both men cried, jumping back. Slaughter tilted his head, and then walked off. Castle turned back to Esposito. "See what I mean about the Batman thing?"

"Yeah," he replied.

"I need a favor before Batman pops up again," said Castle. "I need you and Ryan to ID those heads we found. Someone's trying to start a gang war. I need to know who, so I can get Browncoat out there to leave me the hell alone."

"You want me and Ryan to interfere in another cop's investigation? Castle, they have rules against that here."

Castle sighed. "How long do you want the Ferrari for?"

"Weekend. Each."

Castle started opening his mouth to protest, when he heard Slaughter yell from the hallway.

"Rookie! You coming, or what?"

"Deal," said Castle hurriedly. "Just hurry on those IDs, okay?"

"You got it, bro," said Esposito, as Castle walked out. He tapped on the glass as Castle walked by, grinning when he jumped. "Don't forget! Weekend each!" he said.

Castle walked up to Slaughter. "Hey," he said.

"What were you talking about?" asked Slaughter, as he glared at Castle.

"Um…nothing," he replied nervously. "I mean, obviously not 'nothing'. We were talking…just…moving our mouths…" Slaughter kept glaring. "I…I gotta go to the bathroom," said Castle, as he began to walk off. The elevators dinged open, as a man dressed as a gang member walked off. Castle looked at him wide-eyed, as the man walked up and greeted Slaughter. "What the hell?!" exclaimed Castle, as he approached them. "I thought you killed him!"

"You should've seen the look on your face when I came out that door," replied Slaughter, as both men began laughing.

"That's not funny!" said Castle. "That's  **not** funny!"

"No. No, it's hysterical!" replied Slaughter, as he began laughing even harder.

"Look at them," said Ryan, as he watched from the other room with Beckett. "Laughing it up, acting like they own the place. I'm gonna say something."

"No, don't," said Beckett. "It's not worth it."

Ryan sighed. "I feel like he's cheating on us," he whispered.

"He's not cheating on us, Ryan. He's just…branching out."

"Don't take it personally, son," said the man, holding out his hand. "Mark Gibson. I'm undercover on the gang task force."

"I had to make sure I could trust you," explained Slaughter. "Make sure you had my back, if things got ugly. Luckily, you passed."

"Well, you were right about the Jamaicans taking out Glitch," said Gibson. "Neighbors near the cemetery heard gunshots the night of the murder. Source tells me a low-level banger named Maxie was the one doing the shooting. He's holed up in a building on Avenue A and 5th."

"Well, let's go get him," said Slaughter, grinning. Castle shivered a little at the coldness of that grin. "You ready, rookie?"

"Y-yeah. Yeah, sure." said Castle, halfheartedly.

"What's the matter? You're not getting cold feet on me, are you?"

Castle turned around, to see Beckett looking at him in the other room. His eyes hardened and turned cold, as he turned back to Slaughter. "No, I'm fine," he replied. "Why are we standing around here? Maxie's not gonna arrest himself. Let's go get him!"

"That's the spirit!" cried Slaughter, clapping him on the back. "We'll make a gang cop out of you yet!"

Beckett watched as Castle walked into the elevator with Slaughter, and felt her hurt turn to anger.  _Screw it_ , she thought to herself.  _If Castle wants to throw his life away with Slaughter, let him._   _I'm not gonna waste any tears on him._  She slammed some folders down on the table in front of her, making Ryan jump. "Sorry," she said.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." But as she turned back to the files in front of her, it wasn't the papers she saw: it was Castle.

* * *

Castle held on for dear life, as Slaughter began doing donuts on the roof of the parking structure. "See, this is how you get people to talk to you," Slaughter said, laughing as he gunned the engine even more. "So listen, rookie," he continued. "I want you to do something for me."

"What?" asked Castle, as he tightened his grip on the door handle. His knuckles were turning white, from the pressure.

"I've got a hearing coming up. Apparently, some wimp somewhere accused me of 'excessive force', so now I have to face the Disciplinary Board. I want you to put in a good word for me."

"What?" exclaimed Castle.

"I know!" Slaughter replied. "I couldn't believe it, either."

"No, you want me to out in a good word for you?" said Castle. "You're crazy! Certifiably IN-SANE."

"So that's a no?"

"Yes, that's a no! I'm not doing it!"

"Well," said Slaughter, as he unbuckled his seat belt, "guess I got nothing left to lose. Hope you made your peace with God, rookie. Cause you and that sleaze ball in the trunk are about to meet your Makers!" Slaughter gunned the engine, suddenly aiming at a wall on the other side of the lot. Castle began screaming, as the wall approached.

"Okay! Okay! I'll do it, I'll do it!"

Slaughter slammed on the brakes, turned to Castle and clapped him on the shoulder, with a predatory look in his eye. "That's the spirit, rookie. I knew you wouldn't let me down." Castle nodded fearfully, but was interrupted by muffled banging from the trunk. Slaughter opened his door. "Shall we go check on our guest?" he leered, as he opened the trunk. A pair of fearful eyes looked back, blinking rapidly in the light. Slaughter grabbed hold of his shirt, and hauled him out. "So, Maxie," he said. "Still wanna tell me it was Valez who killed Glitch?"

"I'm telling you the truth, man!" Maxie cried. "Valez killed Glitch!"

Slaughter patted him on the shoulder, then, to Castle's dismay, drove his fist into Maxie's stomach. Maxie folded over and collapsed to his knees, only to be hauled back up by Slaughter.

"See, the thing is, I don't believe you," he said. "I think you killed Glitch, and tried to pin it on Valez. Maybe you figured with Valez out, you could horn in on his turf. That sound about right?"

"No, man! I told you, it was Valez!"

Slaughter turned to Castle. "Keep an eye out, rookie," he said. To Castle's horror, Slaughter shoved Maxie over the edge. Maxie began screaming as he went over, only to be stopped as

Slaughter grabbed his ankle. "Better talk fast, Maxie," he said. "My arm gets tired pretty quickly."

"Man, you're crazy!" screamed Maxie. "I already told you! It was Valez!"

"And yet, I don't believe you," said Slaughter. "I think you did it, and are framing Valez. That sound about right?"

"Okay, okay!" cried Maxie. "I did it!"

"Really?"

"Yes!"

"You gonna sign a confession stating that?"

"Yes! Yes! Anything you want!" screamed Maxie. "Now let me go!"

"Not over the edge!" cried Castle, as he took a step forward.

"Aren't we picky?" asked Slaughter, as he hauled Maxie back up. "There. See, Maxie? That wasn't so hard, now was it?" Castle stared as Slaughter cuffed a sobbing Maxie, an involuntary shudder going through his body as the predatory glint in his partner's eyes.

* * *

Castle stepped off the elevator into the bullpen of Homicide, running toward Ryan and Esposito. "Guys, I need your help," he said frantically.

"Sorry, Castle. Can't help you," said Ryan coldly, walking by.

"Talk to Beckett," added Esposito, not even bothering to look at him.

Castle felt a jab of hurt inside, as they walked into the elevator. Though he tried not to show it, it made him feel terrible that the boys wouldn't even talk to him. He looked over at the room Beckett was sorting files in, and closed his eyes.  _I can do this._  He walked over to the room Beckett was in, feeling as if he was being led off to the gallows, and opened the door. "Hey, Beckett."

Beckett tensed as she glanced up at him, her eyes cold, before looking back down. "Skip the small talk, Castle. What do you want?" she said, venom lacing her voice.

Castle could feel his hackles rising, but forced his voice to remain calm. "I need your help," he said.

Beckett looked up in surprise. "You need my HELP?" she asked incredulously. "What, the dream team of Castle/Slaughter isn't as dreamy as you thought?"

"I just watched Slaughter coerce a false confession from a suspect," Castle said, fear, nervousness, and anger beginning to enter his voice. "He has the wrong guy, and I need to find the real killer to prove it."

"Except there are rules against interfering in another cop's case, Castle," she said, voice flat as she turned away.

"You're not interfering," he replied. "I am. Please, Beckett. I am pleading with you: help me get justice. Slaughter's only interested in the arrest, not seeking justice. I don't want the wrong guy to go down for murder."

"Even if I  _wanted_  to help you, I'm busy," said Beckett coldly, glaring at him. "You're on your own."

"The hell with you, then!" said Castle, allowing all the anger he was feeling be let loose. "I thought you cared about getting justice, and not letting the wrong guy be arrested! I guess I was wrong about that, and so many other things. Have a nice life, Beckett." He stomped over to the door, threw it open, and turned around. "And tell Esposito he can keep the damn car." Castle turned around and walked out, slamming the door behind him hard enough to make the glass rattle. In the bullpen, several officers stared at him as he stormed out, but Castle was too mad to see the looks of sympathy they were giving him. All he could see was Beckett's icy glare, long after he left.

* * *

Castle stood in under the overpass, looking at the scene.  _Okay, think. I'm Glitch, and Valez is allegedly chasing me. I have several heads of the Jamaicans in my bag, but I'm running for my life with Mexicans shooting at me. I'd rather climb a barb-wife fence, than take the subway I can see is a block away from me. Question is, why?_  Castle smacked his forehead with his hand.  _Fear. I'm shot, bleeding, and I'm scared. So what's the first thing I do? Try to find a place to hide, and call someone I know can help me. But who would I call?_  Castle's eyes widened, as realization hit him. "I'd call my dad," he said aloud. "I know my dad is an enforcer for the Westies, so I'd call him for help."

"Very good," said a voice from behind. "I had hoped to clean up this mess without the police finding out, but I guess I didn't give you enough credit, Mr. Castle." Castle started to turn around, but stopped when the voice spoke again. Uh uh. Any sudden movements, and you're dead."

"Are you going to shoot me in the back, like you did Glitch? Or do you intend to just cut my head off?" asked Castle, as he slowly turned around. "He was your SON! How could you kill him like that?"

Brian Reilly looked at Castle with dead eyes. "Kid was a punk. He thought he was good enough to be with the Westies, simply because his old man was. All he ever did was screw up. And every time he screwed up, they'd send me in to clean up the mess. Well, I finally had enough of it. They sent him out here to collect heads of the Jamaicans, and he couldn't even do that."

"Why?" asked Castle.

"To start a turf war between the Mexicans and the Jamaicans," Brian replied. "When they'd worn each other out, we'd swoop in and take their territory."

"And you don't care that he called you for help? That he thought of his father, in his time of need?"

"No. I'm a Westies enforcer, Mr. Castle. Glitch was an embarrassment to me, who got what he deserved."

"Funny," said Slaughter, as he aimed his gun at Brian's head, "I was gonna say the same thing about you."

"Drop it, cop," said Brian. "Or I'll drop the writer."

"Yeah? Go ahead," replied Slaughter. "Cause then, I'll drop  _you_."

"That's murder!" cried Castle.

"Just means more paperwork for me," said Slaughter.

"Fine," said Brian, raising his gun. Castle cringed, and shut his eyes.

"NYPD!" shouted a familiar voice from behind them. "Put your hands up, all of you!"

Castle sighed in relief, raising his hands as Beckett, Ryan and Esposito charged in. "You okay, Castle?" asked Ryan, as Slaughter snapped the cuffs on Brian.

"Yeah," he replied. "You get it all?"

"Every last word, bro," replied Esposito.

"Every last word of what?" asked Slaughter, as uniforms started to lead Brian off.

"Every last word of his confession," said Castle. "I called Ryan's phone when he showed up. We got the entire thing on tape." Castle looked at Brian. "Your boy deserved better than what you did to him."

"My boy was an embarrassment to me," Brian said. "And even with his last breath, that boy managed to screw me up."

Esposito walked up and stood beside Castle, as the squad car pulled away. "Nice work, bro," he said, staring at the rapidly diminishing car.

"Was it?" he replied in a flat tone.

"You got an innocent man out of jail, and caught the real killer," Esposito replied. "I'd call that an accomplishment."

Castle sighed, and turned around. "What about him?" he asked, inclining his head toward Slaughter.

Esposito frowned. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"Is he going to get you in trouble for showing up and interfering with his case?" asked Castle.

"No," Esposito replied. "This was a Homicide investigation, and homicides trump everything else. He may squawk to the chief of detectives, but it won't matter."

Castle nodded. "Good," he said. "I think I'm gonna head home, get some sleep. I'll see you around."

"Why don't you ask Beckett for a ride?" asked Esposito.

Castle turned cold and emotionless eyes toward Beckett, who was standing beside her car, talking to Ryan and a couple of uniformed cops. "No, thanks," he said in a dead tone. "I'll walk or take the subway."

As Castle walked away, Esposito pulled out his phone and dialed a number. After a few seconds, he spoke. "It's me," he said. "We're gonna have to go with Plan B."

* * *

Castle awoke the next morning to the sound of his phone beeping, as a text message flashed on the screen. Groaning, he reached over and looked at the screen.  **Hey, bro. Can you meet me and Ryan at The Old Haunt? Drinks are on us.**  Castle sighed, and sat up.  **Yeah. Give me a little bit to get there**. A short while later found Castle standing outside the entrance to his bar. As he approached the door, he was astonished to see a familiar figure approaching from the crowded sidewalk. "Beckett?"

Beckett looked up startled. "Castle? What are you doing here?" she asked.

Castle quickly recovered, and set his face in a neutral expression. "I own the place," he said.

Beckett felt her irritation growing. "That's not what I meant, and you know it," she growled.

"Then you tell me why you're here," Castle growled back.

Beckett sighed. "Lanie called me, asked me to meet her here for drinks."

"Esposito sent me a text, asking me to meet him and Ryan for the same thing," Castle replied. He gestured ahead of himself. "Ladies first."

"Nice to see your manners are better than your attitude," sniped Beckett, as she stepped inside. She knew it was a low blow, but after Castle's outburst in the precinct the other day, she wasn't feeling inclined to play nice.

Castle just closed his eyes, breathed deeply, and followed her inside. The sooner he was in, the sooner he could get away from Beckett. As soon as he stepped inside, though, he got a shock. Everyone was there: Alexis, his mother, Ryan, Esposito, Lanie, Jim…even Captain Gates was standing there. What worried Castle the most, though, was the solemn looks on everyone's faces. "What's going on?" he asked.

"This is an intervention, Castle," said Lanie.

"For who?" he asked.

"For you two," she replied.

Alexis stood up from the stool she was sitting on. "Dad, you were almost killed three times during the course of the case with Slaughter," she said, voice quavering as tears filled her eyes.

"You came home so late and drunk one night, I was afraid you might choke on your vomit in your sleep. Grams and I stayed up all night watching you, just to make sure you were okay. Not once did that ever happen with Detective Beckett. I didn't know who you were during that time. It scared me. And it scared Grams. Please, we want the old you back." She paused, as tears rolled down her face. "I want my daddy back," she whispered.

Castle wiped the tears off of her face, as he gathered her and Martha in for a hug. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice cracking. "I'm so sorry."

"Castle," said Ryan, "when you ran off with Slaughter, you didn't even give me and Espo an explanation as to why. And that hurt us. A lot. And then we come to find out that you were giving us the Ferrari? That told us you didn't intend to survive this case with him, and nearly killed us. We may be New York's finest, but we're human. We have feelings. And we love you. Not in a LOVE love kind if way, more like a bromance."

Castle chuckled. "I got it," he said.

"You touched a lot of lives at my precinct, Mr. Castle," said Gates. "I may not be your biggest fan, but your generosity to my department hasn't escaped my grasp. Your willingness to put in the long hours, to bring presents to my officers, and your general upbeat attitude has boosted morale for everyone. And I don't want to see that go." Castle nodded.

"Do you see now, Richard?" asked Martha. "All these people who love you, don't want to see you hurt or killed. And you almost died with that Slaughter detective. Katherine Beckett is the best thing that came into your life since Alexis was born. Please don't be foolish enough to throw it all away."

"And as for  _you_ ," said Lanie, turning to Beckett, "you almost let your best friend and partner get killed. And for what? Just because he was making time with another cop?"

"W-what?" replied Beckett, too astonished to formulate a proper answer.

"Don't 'what' me," Lanie replied. "We all stood here and heard what you said to Castle as you walked in. You've been mad at him ever since he started shadowing Slaughter, instead of you."

"That's not-"

"Don't you tell me it's not true," countered Lanie. "You were willing to let him die, rather than admit you were jealous he was with someone else." Beckett hung her head, and silently let the tears fall.

Jim he stood up from his seat in the booth, and approached his daughter. "Katie," he said gently, "Castle is one of the best things that's happened to you in years. I haven't seen you this happy or joyful since your mother died. Castle helped give me one of the best gifts I could ever have: he gave me my daughter back. Are you willing to throw all that away?"

"No," whispered Beckett tearfully.

"Then don't you think you should forgive him? He's done so much for you. Do something for him."

Beckett's tears flowed freely, as she clung to her father, sobbing. Jim whispered soothingly to her, and rubbed her back until the tears stopped. When Beckett finally had herself under control, Jim turned her toward Castle. "I think you two have something to say to one another," he said gently.

"Castle," said Beckett, turning to him as she wiped at her eyes, "I'm so sorry I almost got you killed with Slaughter. I shouldn't have let my jealousy control me. Will you come back to us? The boys miss you.  _I_ miss you."

Castle nodded, and held out his hand. Beckett smiled, stepped past, and hugged her partner. The room exploded into applause, as Castle hugged her back.

"I expect you two at the precinct first thing Monday morning," said Gates, as she walked by.

"Sir?" asked Beckett, stepping back from Castle.

"You broke a case wide open, saved an innocent man, and showed Slaughter for the reckless bastard he is," Gates replied. "I'd say you earned some time off." Gates left the bar.  
"Everyone, help yourself to whatever you want," said Castle, facing his friends. "Drinks are on the house." He stepped away from Beckett, and headed toward his office.

"Dad, where are you going?" asked Alexis in a worried tone.

"Relax, honey," he replied. "I just need to call Paula and Gina, and tell them the new book fell through." Castle made his way down to his office. Once inside, he picked up the phone on his desk and dialed a number he knew by memory. Hearing a click but no answer, he spoke quietly. "This is Richard Castle. I need to speak to Agent Gray at his earliest convenience." Castle poured himself a drink and sat down in his chair. "I'm done, Smith" he said to himself. The time to confront Beckett with her lies was quickly approaching.


	4. Undead Again

Rick Castle held more in his hands than just a laser tag gun. He also held the last vestiges of his relationship with Alexis, his little girl. Granted, he wasn't losing his daughter; he was losing her infectious enthusiasm, her willingness to dive in and play with Rick, and he was already missing her.

Shooting the vest once again, the computerized voice said, "Game Over."

"Got that right," muttered Castle, as he threw down the gun.

"Oh, honestly, Richard," said Martha, as she handed him a cup of coffee. "It's just a game."

Castle took the coffee cup, and set it down on the table. "I'm not in the mood for coffee," he said. "And it's not just the game."

"Then what is it?" asked Martha, as she sat down in the chair.

"Last night, Alexis told me it was time to hang up the laser guns and be adults. She also said she wanted to go to Oxford or Stanford, because if she went to one in New York, she'd be coming home every day."

"Darling, she's growing up. She's going to want to experience things on her own," said Martha. "It doesn't mean she loves you any less.

"Yeah, but now I have no one to play with me," muttered Castle.

Martha looked over as Castle's phone began ringing, and smiled. "Well, maybe Detective Beckett will want to play with you."

Castle reached over and hit the Ignore button. Martha looked at him in surprise. "Richard?"

"Beckett and I aren't on the best of terms," he explained.

"But I thought you two agreed to work together after last week," she replied.

"That isn't work related," he said. "She wants me to meet her for breakfast. She's been texting and calling since 6."

"Darling, I don't get why you're so upset with her," said Martha. "What did she do?"

Castle took a sip of his coffee, and looked at his mother. "Do you remember when Alexis was 9, we went to the park one Saturday? She'd been wanting ice cream all day, and took off for the ice cream truck."

"I remember that," said Martha. "You yelled at her, and grounded her for three weeks. I thought that was a little harsh for wanting ice cream."

"It wasn't the ice cream," said Castle quietly. "She had told me she'd told you where she was going. When I asked you about it…"

"…I told you I didn't know where she was," finished Martha.

"It was the fact that Alexis had lied to me," said Castle. "I wasn't nearly as upset that she had taken off for the ice cream truck, as I was that she had lied to me about it. That was why I was so hard on her."

"But what does that have to do with Beckett?" asked Martha, as her eyebrows scrunched together in confusion.

"Beckett lied to me," said Castle. "When she woke up in the hospital, she told me she didn't remember anything that happened after she was shot." He paused.

"But?" prompted Martha, when the silence dragged on.

"But she remembered everything, Mother," he said. "She heard me tell her I love her, and she lied to me about not remembering."

"When did you find out?"

"During the Boylan Plaza bombing," said Castle. "Beckett had a suspect in the interrogation room, and she called his PTSD amnesia bluff by telling him she remembered every second of what happened after she was shot."

"Oh, Richard," said Martha, taking his hand. "No wonder you're so upset."

"Every woman I ever loved lied to me," said Castle, his voice breaking. "Kyra, Meredith, Gina, Beckett…all of them."

"Is that why you started dating the flight attendant, and shadowing that awful gang detective?" she asked. "To try to get over Beckett?" Castle nodded, not trusting his own voice. Martha squeezed his hand. "Darling, I understand you're hurt. But honestly, the two of you cannot go on like this. If you're going to punish Beckett, at least tell her why."

Before Castle could reply, his phone buzzed. Checking the screen, he saw a text message from Beckett.  **Got a body drop.** Castle stood up. "You're right, Mother," he said. "I do need to quit punishing her."

"Where are you going?" asked Martha.

"To a crime scene," said Castle. "Or, to be more specific, my last ever case with Detective Beckett."

"Richard, wait!" cried Martha, as Castle slammed the bedroom door. "That's not what I meant!" Martha sank back down onto the couch, praying that her son would work things out with the beautiful detective.

* * *

 Beckett approached her desk, seeing Castle standing by the murder board. "Hey," she said with a slight smile, as she handed him a cup of coffee. She frowned as Castle took it and set it down on the desk. Deciding to address his aloofness later, Beckett plowed on. "Ryan and Esposito are running down surveillance footage of the garage. They should have an ID on David's killer soon."

"Not much to go on," muttered Castle, as he stared at the mostly bare murder board.

"It never is at first," said Beckett. "We'll solve it." Beckett gave Castle a hopeful smile. "We always do." Castle glanced over at Beckett, but said nothing. Beckett leaned closer to him. "I tried calling you before the body drop," she murmured. "I thought you might wanna get breakfast this morning."

"Wasn't hungry," he replied.

Beckett placed a hand on Castle's arm, but immediately withdrew it when she felt him tense up. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"Nothing," he said.

"Castle, all I wanted to do was take you to breakfast," said Beckett. "What's wrong with that?"

Castle turned to glare at her. "I agreed to keep working with you," he said. "I never agreed to see you outside of that."

Beckett stared at him, hurt and confusion evident on her face. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"For what?" he asked, turning back to the murder board.

"For whatever I did to make you so mad at me."

"I think we're past the point of sorry," he replied.

Beckett turned back to the murder board as well, but her thoughts kept returning to what Castle had said. What did he mean, they were past the point of sorry? Did this mean that whatever she did to him couldn't be fixed? Was she about to lose the man she loved? A surge of pain and fear shot through her heart at that thought. Had she lost him before she even had a chance to let him know how she felt? Beckett sighed. Right now, she needed to concentrate on the case at hand. Perhaps a talk with Lanie might help her later.

* * *

 Beckett slammed open the doors to the morgue. "Lanie, I need to talk to you," she said, before realizing the morgue was empty. "Lanie?" she called out. A rattling noise from the back of the room got her attention, as Beckett slowly approached the doorway. Before she could grab the door, it opened to show Lanie standing there, reading a clipboard. Both women screamed, as Lanie jumped back.

"Girl, you are gonna give someone a heart attack, if you don't give a warning!" said Lanie, picking up the clipboard she dropped.

"Sorry," replied Beckett, as she tried to get her heart rate and breathing back to normal.

"Where's Writer Boy?" asked Lanie, noticing that Castle wasn't with Beckett.

"He ran out, screaming something about the zombie apocalypse starting," said Beckett. "Our killer was in the surveillance footage, but they were dressed as a zombie. Castle seems to think this means the dead are walking again, so he tried to talk me and the boys into practicing head shots."

"Well, he may be more right than you think," said Lanie. "I was just about to call you."

"What's up?" asked Beckett.

"I finished the autopsy on David Locke," said Lanie. "Our boy died from massive blood loss, not blunt force trauma from his fall."

"What do you mean?" asked Kate.

"I mean, someone tore out his throat, and he bled out from his carotid artery being severed."

Kate groaned. "Oh god, please don't say zombie," she said. "It's bad enough I have Castle saying that."

"That's not all," said Lanie. "His arm was missing a chunk of skin. Whoever tore out his throat also tried eating him."

"Great," said Kate. "I can just hear Castle now: zombie cannibals from Planet Thirteen are invading."

Lanie burst out laughing. "They're coming for you, Kate," she giggled. "And they're hungry!"

Beckett glared at Lanie. "You're not helping," she huffed.

Lanie giggled as they shared the amusing moment for just a beat, before growing quiet. She could tell from her friend's face, though, that there was more to Beckett's visit than just shop talk.

"What's on your mind, girl?" asked Lanie.

"It's about Castle," said Beckett, after a moment's hesitation.

"What's wrong with Writer Boy this time?"

"He's changed, Lanie...he's pulling away from me." Kate explained, her face clearly showing the hurt at the potential loss of her partner.

"What do you mean, sweetie? He seemed fine when he was here."

Kate shook her head, as she replied, "No, it's more when we're alone. He's distant, and so...angry. I just wish I could figure out why."

"Oh, Kate," said Lanie, hugging her. "Did you try asking him why?"

"Yeah, but he won't talk to me," said Beckett, running a hand through her hair in frustration. "Every time I try to ask him, he keeps changing the subject, or we get interrupted."

Lanie frowned slightly, then immediately set her face into neutral, hoping Beckett didn't notice. No such luck, however.

"Lanie, what's up?" asked Beckett.

"What? Nothing. Why would you think anything's up?" she asked.

Kate frowned at her friend as she commented, "Lanie, I can read your expression from here; something's up. What is it?"

Lanie paused, taking a moment to sort out her thoughts, before she prefaced her answer with a reply. "I saw Castle last week when he came down here with Slaughter, and he looked like he had the world on his shoulders. Kate, the last thing I want to do is to cause either of you more problems."

Kate smiled. Lanie was trying to share information, but was clearly conflicted. "That's what makes you a good friend, Lanie. To both of us. Now spill."

Lanie sighed. "I didn't wanna say anything, because I didn't think it was my place to. But I asked Castle what was going on."

Kate looked at her friend. "What did he say?" she whispered.

"That whatever's bothering him started during the Boylan Plaza case," Lanie replied.

Kate sighed. It wasn't much to work with, but she'd cracked cases with less. "Thanks, Lanie," she said, as she left the morgue. She didn't know what was bothering Castle, but now she had a place to start.

* * *

 Castle walked in the next morning with a cardboard cutout under his arm, and a determined look on his face.

"Really, Castle?" asked Beckett, as he strode up to the murder board. "Your ego isn't big enough, you need a cutout of you to haul around, too?"

"Ha ha," replied Castle, as he set down the cutout. "But while you were at home last night sleeping and laughing at the sitcoms, I was scouring the Internet for the perfect teaching tool." Castle turned the cutout to the three detectives, revealing a zombie. Esposito groaned.

"Seriously, bro?" he asked. "You're sticking to this crazy theory?"

"No talking during class," said Castle, as he pulled out a pointer. "This, people, is a zombie. Zombies are reanimated corpses that have only one purpose: to feast on the flesh of the living. Now," he said, as he moved the pointer to the cutout's head, "the only way to stop a zombie is to destroy the brain. Head shots work best."

"That depends, Castle," said Kate. "Are we talking Romero zombies, or 28 Days Later rage virus zombies?"

Castle stared at Beckett, mouth agape. "That has to be the hottest thing I have ever heard you say," he whispered. Kate blushed.

"Hold on a second," said Ryan, who was scribbling down notes. "'Can only be killed by head shots.' So what happens if you get bit or scratched by a zombie?"

Esposito sighed, grabbed Ryan and dragged him back to their desks. "I can't believe you're encouraging this," muttered Esposito.

"Hey, this is the kind of stuff that could save our lives!" retorted Ryan.

Castle watched them walk to their desks, and then turned to Kate. "You never told me you knew anything about zombies."

Kate smirked. "Layers, Castle. Layers," she said.

"Ah, yes. The famous 'Beckett Onion'", he replied. "I think I've done enough exploring of those layers."

Kate frowned, but before she could say anything, Esposito ran over. "Lanie called," he said. "She managed to ID the bite marks on Locke."

"Who is it?" asked Kate, as she grabbed a marker. "And don't tell me it's a zombie, or I'll have you both doing paperwork for a week."

"Guy's name is Kyle Jennings," said Esposito, as he elbowed Ryan, who had opened his mouth. "We're on our way over to pick him up right now."

"Good," replied Kate. "Call me when you get him, I wanna have a chat with this guy."

"You got it, boss," said Esposito, as he and Ryan stepped into the elevator.

* * *

 Castle and Beckett stood in the morgue, staring at the body lying on the slab. Castle had a smug look on his face, as Kate shook her head at Lanie, who was standing on the other side.

"You can't be serious," she said.

Lanie nodded. "This is your murder suspect. Kyle Jennings."

"Yeah, but…he's DEAD!" cried Kate, waving her hands at the body. "And according to Perlmutter, he was dead before David Locke was killed! So how can a dead man murder our victim and end up dead on the floor of his apartment?" Kate glared at Castle, who was bouncing on the balls of his feet. "And don't you DARE say zombie."

"Come on, Beckett," he said, grinning at her. "All the signs are there. Dead body, teeth marks matching our vic, decomposed state…this guy is totally a zombie!"

"Castle, zombies are NOT real," she replied. "There has to be another explanation for this! Perlmutter could have gotten the time of death wrong, for all we know!"

"Well, I'm about to start the autopsy," said Lanie. "I can give you a more accurate time of death, once I've got him opened up." She leaned over to start the incision, when the corpse opened its eyes. Lanie screamed and jumped back, as Kyle screamed, jumped down from the table and ran out the door. Kate ran after him, but turned back to Castle. "Castle, call for backup!" she yelled, as she disappeared.

"Right!" said Castle, as he picked up the phone, and then paused. "Uh…what's the code for zombie escape?" he asked a shaken Lanie.

* * *

 Castle and Kate stood in front of the murder board, staring at the new information on it. Or rather, Kate was staring at it. Castle was standing by her desk, frowning at the floor.

"You're not still sulking over the fact that Kyle Jennings didn't turn out to be a zombie, are you?" she asked, glancing over at him.

"No," Castle replied, unconvincingly.

"Castle, I told you before," said Beckett. "There are no such things as zombies."

"Never say never, Beckett," he replied. "There are more things in Heaven and Earth, than are dreamt of in your philosophy."

Kate arched an eyebrow. "Quoting Hamlet now, Castle?" she asked.

Castle shrugged. "It seems fitting," he said.

Beckett sighed, and rubbed her eyes. "Look, Castle," she said, "as much as I would love to see you freak out over a zombie, Kyle Jennings is still living. He murdered David Locke, plain and simple. And no amount of claiming not to remember what happened is going to change that."

Castle turned to look at the murder board. "I don't think Kyle's telling us the whole truth," he said.

"What makes you say that?"

"When a life-altering moment occurs, people remember," he said, turning to glare at her.

Kate swallowed. "Well, maybe it's too big to deal with," she said. "Maybe he…can't face it just yet."

"Then maybe he shouldn't expect the people who love him to wait forever," said Castle, his voice starting to rise. "Maybe he should realize there's a limit to how long they're willing to wait."

"And maybe those people should understand he isn't ready to face what happened yet," replied Kate, her voice rising, as well. They both continued to glare at each other, until they were interrupted by the sound of a throat clearing. Beckett turned to the source, a look of surprise crossing her face. "Agent Gray," she said. "What do we owe this honor from the CIA?"

"Here to see Castle," Gray replied. "Got that info you requested."

"Good," said Castle, a smile suddenly gracing his features. Kate shuddered. That wasn't his usual carefree smile. If anything, it reminded her of a shark's grin. "Actually, let's talk in the break room," he said, steering Gray that way, and out of the bullpen.

Kate frowned, as Castle closed the door and drew the blinds. What was that all about? It wasn't like him to be so mysterious.  _What's gotten into you, Castle?_  Kate turned around, letting out a slight yelp at seeing Esposito standing by her desk.

"You okay?" Espo asked.

"Yeah, you just startled me," replied Beckett. "What've you got?"

"Ryan did a little more digging into the vic's financials, when he wasn't practicing head shots with darts on the zombie cutout Castle left," said Esposito.

Beckett snorted. "Please. I saw you taking your own pot-shots at that thing," she said.

"Man's gotta stay in shape," retorted Esposito.

Beckett rolled her eyes, and pulled the cap off of the marker. "So what have we got?" she asked.

"Turns out our sainted David Locke wasn't quite so close to sainthood," Espo said. "According to his bank statements, he's been making regular purchases to some rather swanky hotels."

"So? He's an accountant," said Beckett. "Hotels are kind of required in that line of work."

"If you're traveling, sure," replied Esposito. "But all these hotel rooms were rented here in Manhattan."

Beckett turned around. "You think he was in a relationship with someone?"

"For the kind if money these places want, he was sure trying to swoon someone," replied Esposito.

Kate thought for a moment. "Take Ryan and talk to his co-workers," she said. "I wanna know everyone David Locke was involved with, even if they think it's rumor."

"You got it," said Esposito, watching as Castle walked out of the break room, stuffing something in his pocket. He cocked his head toward Castle, as he turned back to Beckett. "Everything okay with you two?"

"Yeah," she said. "Yeah, everything's fine." Esposito didn't look convinced, but walked off to the elevator, as Castle walked over. "What was that about?" asked Beckett.

"Personal business," Castle replied.

Kate opened her mouth to ask another question, but was interrupted by the ringing of her phone. "Beckett," she said. She listened for a few seconds, and hung up. "That was Lanie," she said. "Lab IDed a chemical on David's shoe that came from the warehouse district."

"Do we have an address?" asked Castle.

Kate held up the piece of paper she'd been scribbling on. "Let's go, Castle," she said, hurrying toward the elevator.

* * *

 "This place gives me the creeps," said Castle, as they approached the factory.

"You've seen too many horror movies, Castle," replied Beckett.

"And you were the one who couldn't wait until morning to come out here," he replied. "So if we end up eaten by zombies, my ghost is gonna haunt your ghost for eternity."

Beckett rolled her eyes. "Castle, zombies aren't real," she said. "And besides, if we DO run into a horde of walking corpses, you're with a cop who's carrying a gun. Relax."

Castle opened his mouth to reply, but whirled around at the sound of a can banging against a wall. "What was that?" he asked, swinging the flashlight toward the area. The beam of light illuminated the wall of the factory to show…a cat standing there, hissing at Castle. Beckett giggled. "Careful, Castle," she said. "That cat's a real killer. I'll have to take it in for questioning."

"Oh, ha, ha," replied Castle. "If you don't wanna take being eaten by a zombie horde seriously, then I'm not gonna rescue you with my awesome escape plan."

"You have an escape plan for a ZOMBIE takeover?" asked Beckett incredulously.

"Yep," he replied. "I have one for a mad scientist hostage situation, zombie apocalypse, and Meredith visiting."

Beckett shook her head. "You do realize that all but one of those is useless, Castle," she said, as she continued walking.

"You have not known true terror until you've experienced the deep-fried Twinkie visiting," he replied. "I'm considering having a chute from my closet to the garage added to the loft."

Beckett rolled her eyes and started walking again, but suddenly paused. "What was that?"

"Very funny, Beckett," Castle said. "Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me."

"No, Castle, shut up!" she said, as the faint noise began to get louder and closer. "Listen! That sounds like…"

"Footsteps," he said, his face paling as comprehension began to dawn. "A lot of them." He and Beckett began to slowly back away, as the footsteps continued approaching, groans mixed with them. "Uh, maybe we should come back tomorrow. In the daylight. With backup," he said.

"Yeah, good idea," Beckett replied. They whirled around to run away, but stopped at the sight of a mob of silhouettes in the steam. The shapes were numerous, shambling, and getting closer. Castle turned around, only to see more approaching. The groans were emanating from the mob, and Castle turned the flashlight on them, gasping as the beam illuminated one of them.

"Zo-zombie!" he shrieked. "Zombies! It's a zombie horde!" He looked over his shoulder, to see that Beckett had drawn her gun and aimed at it at the approaching zombies. "Don't worry, Beckett," he said sarcastically. "There's nothing here that can hurt you." Beckett turned and glared at Castle. "Right, shutting up," he said, as he turned to face the horde.

"Any ideas, Castle?" asked Beckett, as she swung her gun in front of her.

"Why are you asking me?" he asked.

"Because you're the self-proclaimed zombie expert!" she replied, as she pointed it at a zombie in a nurse's outfit.

"You said zombies aren't real!" he exclaimed. "You mocked my plans, and now you want me to use one? Admit I'm right!"

"Castle!"

"Admit it, Beckett! These are zombies, and I was right!"

"I can't believe you wanna argue this now!" replied Beckett. "We're about to die at the hands of a horde of zombies, and you wanna argue about if you're right?"

"I will die with the knowledge that my theory was right!" said Castle, as he turned toward her. "Zombies exist!"

Beckett lowered her gun and faced Castle. "There is no such thing as zombies, Castle!" she said. "They aren't real! Get that through your head! And for the record, you are not right!"

"And what do you call this?" he yelled, as he waved at the zombies. "A figment of my imagination? A shared hallucination? These are real, Beckett!"

"Oh, they're real, huh?" scoffed Beckett. "Then explain to me why no one has report-"

"HEY!" cried one of the "zombies". "We're trying to have a zombie walk here, and your lover's quarrel is ruining it!"

"A zombie what?" asked Castle.

"Zombie walk," the zombie replied. "It's like tag, only we chase down Runners. It's a game."

"A game? Beckett, this is a thing!" squealed Castle, as he turned to her. "Why did I not know this was a thing?"

"Down, boy," replied Beckett. She turned to the zombie who was talking, and held up Kyle's picture. "Do you know this man?"

"Who's asking?" said the zombie.

"I am," replied Beckett, lifting her jacket to show her badge. "Detective Beckett, NYPD."

"Whoa, hey," he replied. "If this is about the lack of permits before we came out here, I can explain."

"I'm not here about that," replied Beckett. "But I do wanna know if any of you know this man. His name's Kyle Jennings."

"Kyle?" asked the nurse zombie. "Yeah, he's a regular at these events. But we haven't seen him at all tonight."

"Has he been hanging around anyone in particular during these events?" asked Beckett, turning to her.

"Yeah, he's usually with Tom in the back," the zombie replied, turning to point behind her. "But I haven't seen Tom all night."

"Tom have a last name?"

"I don't know it," she replied. "I never really talked to him."

"Any idea what he looks like?"

The zombies shook their heads. "All of us wear make-up, except the Runners," said the first zombie. "And Tom's never volunteered to be a Runner before."

"All right, I need all of you to come with me down to the station," said Beckett. "I'm gonna need statements from all of-" Beckett turned around, to see Castle talking to one of the zombies.

"Did you do this yourself?" he asked, as he touched one of the zombie's make-up. The zombie nodded gleefully. "That is some really good work! Do you think I could get some pointers from-"

"Castle!" cried Beckett.

"What?" he asked, turning around.

"Case, remember?"

"Well, this is important. This is some really good effects, and they could be-ow! Apples, apples, apples!" he cried, as she grabbed his ear and dragged him back to the car.

* * *

 Beckett groaned and covered her eyes with her hands, as she leaned back in her chair. "Castle?"

"Mm?" he replied from his chair, as he played with his phone.

"The next time I get a case like this, remind me to just listen to your theory up front," she said, as she rubbed her hands over her face. When no reply was forthcoming, Kate looked over, to see Castle pressing two fingers to his neck. "What're you doing?"

"Checking to see if I still have a pulse," he replied. "Because either I'm dead, or I'm asleep and this is a dream."

Beckett rolled her eyes. "I was being sarcastic, Castle," she said. "It's just…every answer we find with this case is raising more questions."

"Maybe we can help you fill in some of the blanks," said Esposito, as he and Ryan walked up. "We did some more digging at David Locke's work. Turns out, our boy wasn't as clean cut as he'd have people believe."

"What do you mean?" asked Beckett, as she sat up.

"Meet Greta Mastroianni," said Esposito, as he pinned a picture up on the murder board. "Trader, and lover to one David Locke. It seems the vic and Ms. Mastroianni have been having an affair for a while. We showed her picture around the hotel that David was registered at, and got a match."

"So we could be looking at a case of jilted lover," said Castle. "David tried to break off the affair, she couldn't handle being told no, so she killed him and staged it to look like Kyle Jennings attacked him."

"Yeah, except that doesn't explain Kyle's teeth marks in our victim's throat, Castle," said Beckett. "Or his DNA on the cloth we found at the scene."

"Dentures," replied Castle. "And all she would need is a piece of clothing Kyle wore to plant there, to throw suspicion off of herself."

"You'll say anything just to prove your theory right!" exclaimed Beckett.

"At least I'm offering a theory!" cried Castle, standing up. " _I'm_  not trying to railroad an innocent man into jail!"

"Innocent?" cried Beckett. "He murdered a man, Castle! My  _job_  is to put killers behind bars, not rely on an amnesia defense!"

"Yeah, can't have someone else using that defense," muttered Castle, as he grabbed his coat.

"What?" asked Beckett.

"Nothing."

"Castle, what did you say?" she asked, as she moved to intercept him. "I heard you say something! So spill it!"

"Or what?" asked Castle, turning toward her. "You'll arrest me for an amnesia defense, too?"

Beckett opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the sound of a throat clearing. Castle and Beckett both angrily turned toward the source, to see Captain Gates standing nearby.

"Is there a problem, Detective?" she asked, staring at them.

"No, sir," replied Beckett. "I was just-"

"Actually, there is," interrupted Castle, as he gestured at the murder board. "We've both been banging our heads against a brick wall with this particular case, and the frustration with it made us both get rather vocal. I guess we didn't realize just how loud we were."

"If you two can't remain professional while you're here, I'll have you both suspended from this precinct for a week," said Gates. "Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," said Beckett. Castle nodded.

"Now go home," said Gates. "All of you. This case will still be here tomorrow." Gates turned and went back into her office, shutting the door. Castle started to walk to the elevator, but Beckett grabbed his arm.

"Castle, I don't know what I did to you," she said softly, "but I'm sorry. Let's talk, okay?"

Castle looked at Beckett, before forcefully grabbing her hand and removing it, as if her touch was nauseating to him. He stepped into the elevator, and pressed the button. "You know what?" Let's not," he said, the hurt and anger on his face keeping her from pushing the issue. Beckett sighed, as she watched the doors close.

* * *

 Castle sat on the couch in the living room, nursing a bottle of Scotch as he stared into the flames crackling in the fireplace. Every sad song he could think of, and a few he didn't know about, piped through the speakers on his stereo, looping on the playlist. This was the sight that greeted Martha, when she walked in.

"I haven't seen you this upset since the night Kyra broke up with you," she said, as she hung up her coat. Castle didn't move. Martha smiled sadly, and sat down next to him. "Do you wanna talk about it, kiddo?"

Castle was silent for so long, Martha was about to stand and leave. Finally, he spoke. "Beckett and I had a fight at the precinct," he said. "Our suspect is claiming amnesia for the murder. I don't think he did it, but Beckett says it's a lie. We started arguing about it so loudly, Gates threatened to ban us for a week if it happened again."

"Oh, Richard," said Martha, as she gently squeezed his hand.

"I wish I knew how you do it," he said.

"Do what, darling?"

"Turn off the love you had for Dad."

"Richard," said Martha sternly. "I have  _never_  stopped loving your father. Yes, I may have been upset with him for walking out on us, but that doesn't mean I stopped loving him. He gave me the greatest gift I could ever ask for: you."

Castle looked up at Martha. "You make it seem like it's so easy to ignore him," he said. "I thought you didn't love him anymore."

"Love isn't a switch you can just turn off at will, kiddo," Martha replied. "If you love someone, you never stop loving them. No matter what they do to you."

Castle nodded. "Do you want something to drink?" he asked, as he poured more Scotch into his glass.

Martha shook her head. "No, I don't want it mixing with my new motion sickness medication," she said. Castle looked up at her, concern on his face. "I'm not getting any younger," she said, smiling. "My balance is going out. And yes, that's common as one gets older," she said, seeing the look on Castle's face. "But that doesn't mean I won't be around for a good long while." Martha smiled, and kissed his forehead. "I'm going to go to bed," she said. "Will you be okay?"

Castle nodded, and kissed her hand. "Good night, mother," he said. "I love you."

"I love you, too, Richard," she said. "Tomorrow will be a better day for you and Katherine. You'll see." Martha turned and went upstairs, as Castle resumed staring at the fire.

* * *

 Beckett blinked as a cup of coffee materialized on her desk. Looking up, she saw a familiar hand attached to the cup. "Thanks," she said, as she reached for the cup. She sipped it gratefully, smiling as the warmth of the coffee heated her inside.

"Welcome," said Castle, as he turned away from her to stare at the murder board. "Anything new?"

"Nothing yet," she replied. "Look, Castle, about yesterday…"

"It's in the past," he replied, waving his hand. "I've already  _forgotten_  about it."

Beckett frowned at the tense he had used on the word "forgotten". Whatever was bothering him, it was apparent it was still on his mind. "Castle, can we please talk?" she asked. "I don't want whatever's bothering you to be an issue between us."

"Not now," he said, as he scanned the murder board. "We have a case to solve, remember?"

"Then when?" she asked, exasperated.

"Later," was all he said.

Beckett stood up from her desk, a determined look on her face. But whatever she was about to do was interrupted by the ringing of her phone. "Beckett," she said, picking up the receiver. She listened for a few seconds, and smiled. "Thanks," she said, before hanging up. "That was Perlmutter," she said, seeing Castle's expression. "Tox reports came back on Kyle Jennings. He had high levels of a drug called Scopolamine in his system."

"Scopolamine…that's a motion sickness drug," said Castle. "Mother's taking it, so I read up on that last night. Doctors are recommending patients don't take more than the recommended amount. Apparently, high doses have some similar effects to date rape drugs."

"How similar?" asked Beckett.

"I could have you trying to hang glide off the Empire State Building, and you wouldn't even remember it," replied Castle.

"So what was Kyle Jennings doing with a high amount of a motion sickness drug in his system?" asked Beckett. "And more importantly, where did he even get access to it?"

"This might fill in some of the blanks," said Esposito, as he and Ryan walked up. "We weren't getting anywhere with the vic, so Ryan and I started focusing more on his lover, Greta. And you'll never believe what we turned up."

"What?" asked Castle.

"Meet Tom Williams," said Esposito, as he pinned a picture to the murder board. "Turns out that not only is Mr. Williams here our mysterious Tom that was missing from the zombie walk, but he's also the fiancé of Greta Mastroianni. He stopped showing up around the same time that Kyle disappeared, so we went back to talk to the zombie walkers some more."

"What did you find out?" asked Beckett, turning toward them.

"For one thing, I should've gone by myself," replied Esposito. "I said we talked to them, when what I should say is,  _I_  talked to them," said Esposito, glaring at his partner.

"What happened?" asked Castle.

"While I was trying to get answers from the living dead, Castle Jr. here got trigger happy with his dart gun and shot one of them in the head."

"He scared me!" Ryan replied. "And Castle's zombie talk has me freaked out!"

"You shot an actor in the head with a  _dart gun_ , man!" cried Esposito, turning toward Ryan. "You know how long it's gonna take us to live that down?"

"What was I supposed to do?" asked Ryan. "I panicked!"

"This is why I'm never taking you to the Coney Island Haunted House," grumbled Esposito.

"That still doesn't explain how Kyle ended up with high levels of Scopolamine in his system," said Castle.

"This does," replied Ryan. "Tom Williams is a dealer for a pharmaceutical company. He'd have access to the Sco-Scopo-what you said."

"So this  _is_  a case of jilted lover," said Castle.

"Only we've been looking at the wrong person in this triangle," replied Beckett.

"Tom gets wind of the affair that Greta was having with David," continued Castle. "He discovers that David wants Greta, and that he now has competition. He can't handle it, so he drugs Kyle Jennings, and tells him in his suggestive state to murder David."

"And gets away with it, because all the evidence points to Kyle being the murderer," said Beckett.

"Greta  _has_  to know Tom's involved," replied Castle.

"We need to get her to flip on him," finished Beckett. She turned to Ryan and Esposito. "Bring Tom in for questioning."

"Man, it's creepy when they do that!" said Ryan, as he and Esposito headed for the elevator.

* * *

 Beckett slammed a fist into the punching bag, growling as she cocked her arm back for another blow. She let out a scream of frustration and rage, as she rained blow after blow upon the bag. She had stepped back to regain her breath, when a familiar voice sounded behind her.

"I wouldn't wanna be in that bag's shoes," said Castle, as he enters the room. "Bad news with the fiancé?"

"Greta refused to flip on Tom," replied Beckett angrily. "She knows he did it, yet refuses to admit that. And without her statement, Kyle's going down for David's murder." Beckett sighed, as she began to strip off her gloves. "I don't know, Castle. I guess we did hit every Homicide cop's worst nightmare: the perfect murder."

"There is no such thing as the perfect murder," said Castle, a sudden hardness to his voice. "At least, not until I've written it."

Beckett giggled. "Did you tell Patterson that?" she asked.

Castle blushed. "Well…no," he said. "Because if I did, then I lose our bet."

Beckett smiled, but it quickly faded away. "I don't know what else to do," she said. "We went at Tom head-on, and he didn't even blink. Our best bet was to get Greta to flip on him, but she won't budge. Honestly, Castle, I don't think there's anything more we can do. And an innocent man is going to prison for life, while a murderer walks free."

"Maybe we  _should_  let him go," said Castle.

Beckett turned to Castle, a look of surprise on her face. "What?" she asked. "Castle, have you lost your damn mind?"

"No. But I have an idea. Look," he said, gesturing toward the bag. "Let's say this bag is Tom, and we're interrogating it. When you attacked it head-on, what happened?"

"It bounced back," she replied.

Castle stepped to the side, and punched the bag. "But now I'm on its side, flanking it."

"And it didn't see it coming," said Beckett, understanding lighting up her face. "Castle, that's brilliant! Wait," she said, a frown creasing her face. "How can we flank Tom? He knows we don't have anything."

"We tell him Kyle's free," replied Castle.

"But he's not free, he's in Holding."

"We know that. But I'm willing to bet you the bonus on my next book that Tom doesn't know that," replied Castle.

"Thanks, Castle," said Beckett, as he headed for the door. "Listen, Castle…when this is all over, do you wanna go to The Old Haunt and have a drink? Maybe talk about what's going on between us?"

"No," he replied, before he walked off.

Beckett watched the door swing shut. "One way or another, Castle, I'm going to get an answer," she whispered to herself. She didn't even notice the tears that fell to the floor, as she began putting her gear away.

* * *

 Castle and Beckett stood near the door to the cell, looking in at Tom. His smug grin told them both that he knew what was going on. "So," he asked, as he approached the door. "Where's this proof you have that I killed David? Still waiting on that."

Beckett glared, as she threw open the cell door. "You're free to go," she growled.

"Really?" replied Tom smugly. "Is there a service comment card here that I can fill out? Because you really deserve a five-star rating. Oh," he said, as he turned around, "Greta told me what you said to her. That was your grand plan? To try and turn my fiancé against me? Real classy."

"One of these days, she's gonna find out what you are," said Beckett. "What are you gonna do then, smart guy?"

"Nothing," Tom replied. "Because I don't  _need_  to do anything. Greta knows who I am. You're just upset because you can't pin this on me. Probably on the rag, too. And you," he said, turning to Castle, "are just a playboy wanna-be cop. Good luck playing Pretend."

"Yo," said Esposito, as he and Ryan walked up. "Thought you might wanna know. Kyle Jennings just made bail."

"Wait, Kyle's out?" asked Tom, suddenly sounding nervous.

"How?" asked Castle. "His bail was set at a million dollars."

"Apparently, he's got an uncle who's loaded," said Esposito. "Didn't wanna see his nephew in jail, so he posted his bail."

"I'd steer clear of him, if I were you," said Beckett.

"Why? What kind of lies did you tell him?" demanded Tom.

"We didn't tell him anything," replied Castle. "But Kyle seems like a pretty smart kid. I'm sure he'll put two and two together. But don't worry. You didn't do anything wrong, so you'll be fine."

"I want police protection," said Tom suddenly, looking at Beckett.

"Thought you didn't do anything wrong," mocked Ryan.

"I didn't!" exclaimed Tom. "But now, thanks to you all, Kyle thinks I did. And now he's out there!" Castle looked at Tom, as if to say,  _so what?_  Tom scoffed. "You're releasing me with knowledge and forethought that he could attack me," he said, looking at all four of them. "If he does, think of the lawsuit I'll bring down on all of your heads."

Castle snorted. "I'm not a cop, and I have one hell of a good team of lawyers on retainer," he said. "So whoever you get to take on that case, had better be a hell of a legal magician."

"You're working with the department, and you didn't do a thing to stop them," said Tom. "I don't need a good lawyer, just a competent one. And I'd win."

Castle stiffened, but Beckett placed a hand on his arm. "Castle," she said. "He's right. In this matter, you  _would_  be affiliated with the department." She turned to Ryan and Esposito. "Detective Esposito, please process Mr. Williams, then escort him to his apartment. Make sure it's clear. And then after that," she said, turning to Tom, "you are on your own. Are we clear?"

Tom smirked, and began walking away. "You know, I'll be sure to check  **Excellent Servic** **e**  on that comment card."

* * *

 Esposito pulled into a spot in the parking garage, smirking as Tom nervously glanced around. "Where's all your swagger now, Holmes?" he asked, as he set the car in Park.

"I want a patrol car outside the building," demanded Tom.

"Yeah, well, that's not gonna happen," replied Esposito, unbuckling his seat belt. "Now, I'm gonna go check and let you-aaaaaahhhhhh!" cried Esposito, as a bat smashed into the windshield. "Stay in the car!" he screamed at Tom, as he opened the door. "NYPD! Drop that bat and show me your hands!" he yelled, raising his gun. In response, the zombie standing outside the car smashed him in the face with the bat. Esposito dropped the ground, knocked out. Tom tried to crawl out the other door, but the zombie smashed the roof with the bat. Tom screamed, slammed the door shut, and crawled out the other door…right into the arms of the zombie.

"I know what you did to me," the zombie said in a deep, growling voice.

"I didn't!" cried Tom, raising his hands.

"You made me kill a man!" the zombie cried. "And now I'm gonna do the same to you!"

"No! No, please!" cried Tom. "I-I'm very sorry."

"You're lying," growled the zombie, raising the bat.

"No! No, I swear!" pleaded Tom. "He was gonna take Greta away from me! I had to do something! I'm sorry I used you," he said. "Please…please, don't hurt me."

The zombie growled, and raised the bat again, as Tom screamed. "Okay," said Esposito, standing up. "Enough." Tom looked fearfully between the zombie backing away, and a chuckling Esposito. "Good actor, huh?" he asked, gesturing at Tom. "I had you going."

"Tom Williams," said Beckett, as she walked around the car. "You are under arrest for the murder of David Locke."

"Whoa, hang on a second! Kyle! Tell them," he said, gesturing to the zombie. In response, the zombie removed the wig and make-up to reveal Castle.

"Sorry," said Castle in his normal voice. "Kyle couldn't make it. But he, uh, sends his regards," his voice deepening on the last bit. "By the way: I may not be a cop, but I'm good at what I do. So next time you call someone a wanna-be, you better make damn sure you know what you're talking about," he said, his eyes cold as he glared at Tom.

"Turn around. Turn  _around_ ," said Esposito, grabbing Tom and flipping him onto the car. He snapped the cuffs on and took him off to be hauled away by uniforms.

"I can't believe that actually worked," said Beckett. "Nice job, Castle." Castle growled, as he turned toward Beckett. "Still not making me a believer," she said.

Esposito moaned as he walked back to them. "Man, look at my car," he said. "You just had to go Michael Douglas on my windshield, didn't you?"

"I thought the department reimbursed you for damages," said Castle.

"Yeah, on official duty," replied Esposito. "But I doubt Gates is gonna accept scaring a confession out of a murderer as official."

"I'll pay for the new glass," said Castle. "My only regret is it wasn't the Crown Vic."

" _My_  car?" exclaimed Beckett. "Castle, what possible reason would you have for wanting to trash my car?"

"For one thing, that passenger seat spring is still there," he said. "Poking into my back. And for another, getting rid of the Crown Vic would allow you to upgrade to something sleeker. Like a new Charger. Or a Mustang GT."

"Castle, there is nothing wrong with my car," said Beckett. "And for your information, you are the  _only_  person who complains about that spring."

"Okay, I'm just gonna go book our murderer," said Esposito, as he backed away. Castle and Beckett didn't stop arguing long enough to acknowledge him.

"Man, Kyle, I have to hand it to you," said Castle, as they escorted him out of Holding. "Your costume really sold it."

"Detective, Mr. Castle, I don't know how to thank you," said Kyle.

"Let me borrow this for another day, and we'll call it even," said Castle. "There's someone here I wanna spook."

"Actually, keep it," Kyle replied. "My zombie walking days are over. I just…wanna put all this behind me." Kyle waved, as he walked out. Castle sighed.

"How do you put something like that behind you?" he asked. "He's gonna need therapy."

"It helps," said Beckett.

"I didn't know you were seeing a therapist," replied Castle.

"I didn't wanna make any excuses," she explained. "I just wanted to put in the time, do the work. But, I think I'm almost where I wanna be now."

"And where's that?"

"In a place where I can finally accept what happened that day. And that wall I told you about? I think it's about to come down. And I'd really like you to be there when it does, Rick," she whispered, placing her hand on his arm.

"Only without the zombie make-up," he said, gesturing to his face.

"I don't know," she said. "I think it looks good on you."

"Yeah, I make it work," he replied. "Speaking of, where's Ryan?" As if on cue, the other man walked out of the break room.

"I'm telling you, Espo, there  _are_  such things as zombies!" said Ryan. "And I'm gonna prove it." As he turned around, he saw Castle standing by Beckett. Ryan shrieked, raised his dart gun and shot Castle in the forehead. Castle groaned, as he opened his eyes.

"Ryan, do I  _look_  like a zombie to you?" he said, as he plucked the dart off his forehead.

"You scared me!" Ryan protested. "And it's your fault for all that zombie talk on this case! I'm jumping at shadows!"

"If you ever shoot me in the head with a dart again, I'll-" Castle was interrupted in his tirade by the sound of a full belly laugh. Turning around, he saw Beckett bent over, clutching her sides as she laughed.

"You should've seen the looks on your faces," she gasped between peals of laughter. "I wish I had that on film."

"Ha ha," said Castle. "I better get home. I still have stuff to do. And I need to get out of this zombie make-up, before Hopalong Ryan there gets trigger happy again."

"Tomorrow, Castle?" asked Beckett, as she watched him head toward the elevator.

"Good night, Beckett," he said. "And I'm keeping the dart, Ryan!"

* * *

 Castle stood in his office, boxing up the laser tag equipment. He turned at a knock on his door, to see Alexis standing there. "Hey, Pumpkin," he said.

"Dad? What are you doing?" she asked, as she walked in.

"I'm boxing up the laser tag equipment," he explained, as he closed and taped up a box.

"Why?" she asked, as she watched him stack the boxes.

"Well, I thought about what you said, about it being time to put away the toys and start acting like grown-ups, and-"

"No, Dad," said Alexis, as tears sprang to her eyes. "I talked to Grams earlier, and she told me how much I hurt you with that comment. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. I'm going to college, and it terrifies me. But I didn't stop to think about how it would make  _you_  feel, or how alone you'd be. I wanna challenge myself, but not like that. Not if it means hurting you."

"Alexis, I've never been more proud of you," said Castle. "You're growing up, and it scares the hell out of me. But if Stanford is what you want, then go for it."

"And not see you every day? Not get to do late-night ice cream binges, or laser tag matches, or movie marathons? No, Dad," Alexis replied. "I don't wanna lose that. So I decided to go to Columbia, instead."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. So, will you please unbox the laser tag gear?"

Castle shook his head. "No, because this set I promised to the Youth Center," he said. "And besides, why use that old stuff when we have this new stuff?" he asked, as he opened another box, revealing brand-new laser tag gear. Alexis squealed.

"Dad! Oh my god, it's gorgeous!" she exclaimed, as she grabbed the blue chest piece. "Voltar is going down!"

Castle smiled. "Why don't you go get suited up?" he said, as he escorted her out. "I need to make a phone call. Then Voltar shall rule the Omniverse!"

"For the rebellion!" yelled Alexis, as she charged up the stairs. Castle smiled, as he shut the door. But the smile quickly slipped from his face, as he looked at his digital murder board. Taking a slip of paper from his pocket, he sat down at his desk, pulled out his phone, and dialed a number.

"Hello?" asked a man's voice.

"Smith," said Castle quietly.

"Mr. Castle?" asked Smith in surprise. "How did you get this number?"

"That's none of your business," growled Castle in reply. "All you need to know is I have it. And if I want to, I can get your name and address, too. I have friends in places you could only dream about, Smith."

Smith sighed. "What is it that you want?" he asked.

"For you to listen to what I'm about to tell you," said Castle. "I'm done protecting Beckett. From now on, if she runs at her mother's case, she does so at her own risk."

"Mr. Castle, I cannot guarantee her safety if she-"

"I don't care," interrupted Castle. "Beckett's no longer my concern, Smith. She can do what she wants."

"Mr. Castle, I implore you to rethink-" began Smith.

"Don't contact me again," said Castle, and hung up. He stared at his phone for a moment, and sighed. "Never again," he whispered, as he stood up. The time of the reckoning with Beckett was quickly approaching. And soon, all of their secrets would be aired.


End file.
